


What the Night Knows

by RubyFiamma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission gone wrong has Keith wandering around aimlessly seeking some sort of solace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Night Knows

**Author's Note:**

> [anon](https://rubyfiamma.tumblr.com/post/146942541712/klance-and-sleep-d) asked: _klance and sleep :D_

**What the Night Knows**

* * *

 

 

He comes to Lance in the still of night, when the entire ship is quiet save for the surprisingly soft whir of its engine.

Lance isn’t sure it is him at first. The mechanical slide of the airlock on his bedroom door is what wakes him. Blinking sleep from his eyes he can see a small framed silhouette illuminated by the amber glow of hall lights and hair that he’d recognise anywhere. He’s surprised when Keith takes a step into the room without a word but somewhere in Lance’s mind, he’s almost certain he knows why Keith is here.

Still, “What are you doing here?” is what he asks after the latching mechanism on the sliding door clicks shut, closing the two of them alone in the dark room.

“I don’t know,” is what Keith replies. From what Lance can tell, he’s dressed in the same clothing from hours earlier, tattered and frayed at the edges and it makes Lance frown. At the same time, he isn’t surprised.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The answer is obvious when Lance leans over to palm the light switch and he can see the smudges of insomnia under Keith’s eyes. They look like war paint and the harder Lance looks, he can see that there’s still soot smeared over his face from the crash, blood still crusted at the corner of his lip. He looks terrible, like he hasn’t slept or showered in weeks but it’s only been a few hours.

“Keith,” he finds himself blurting, suddenly angry at himself for sleeping with ease when the other is clearly shaken up by the day’s earlier events.

“Turn it off. Please?” He hides behind the curtain of hair falling over his face, but not before Lance catches the look in his eyes; far off and disconnected, like he’s not present even though he’s standing right here.

So Lance complies and shuts off the light. It’s not even a second that passes before he feels Keith’s weight dip the mattress and Lance starts feeling a slew of emotions he doesn’t understand.

“I… I guess I just. Needed someone.” His voice is unusually thin, Lance can hear the vulnerability that shakes the other’s shoulders and trembles in his hands. It starts to make Lance worry, starts to make him feel awkward and uncomfortable and he isn’t sure what he should be doing or saying.

“Keith,” he begins, opens his mouth a few more times after that but no sound follows to offer words of comfort.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Keith interjects. There’s movement and instinctively Lance moves his legs to allow more space for the other at the end of the bed yet Keith doesn’t stay there. He ends up moving to the other side, so close that Lance can feel Keith’s breath falling on his skin. “I just needed –”

“Someone,” Lance finishes, silently questioning why him instead of the others who are far more better candidates than he when it comes to this.

“Yeah.”

Lance turns, aggressively commanding his eyes to adjust to the dark already so that he can see Keith’s features, so he can see that vacant look in his eyes again… so he can see it disappear when he starts to feel better. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Why me?” Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s not the time nor place, but Lance can’t stop himself from mulling the question over and over in his mind. His eyes have finally started catching shapes in the dark; he can see Keith’s hair and the soft white of his skin, like milky moonlight in a dense fog. He hates that all he sees fragile beauty when looking at Keith like this, it isn’t _him_.

He feels the other shrug beside him. He’s a lot closer than Lance had originally thought. They’re sitting almost shoulder to shoulder, with both their knees drawn to their chests, Lance still under the sheets.

He leans into Lance, subtle but his body is tired and Lance feels the dead weight all the same. “I don’t know. I was wandering around and suddenly I was here. Figured it was where I was supposed to be.”

His breath is so warm. It ghosts over Lance’s skin, bristling the hair on the back of his neck. Lance’s breath catches in his throat and he tries to think of some clever thing to say, some shitty joke that will break the tension and divert his selfish thoughts but he comes up empty. “Pidge will be okay,” is what he says instead. “They’ll heal fine, just like I did.”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Keith.”

“I… know.”

“You couldn’t stop that magnetic pull that caused you to crash into the Green Lion. You had no control over it. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame the Galra – blame _Zarkon_ for sending that piece of shit alien robot thing that fucked everything up.”

This makes Keith fall silent and Lance realises he’s made a mistake. He doesn’t want words of consolation or a place for his blame. He’s seeking solace in other forms and still Lance questions _why him_ but rather than ask again, Lance reaches out his hand and searches for Keith’s in the dark. He finds it and takes it and doesn’t worry about how they’ll look at each other in the morning. He doesn’t care right now, not when the brittleness in Keith’s voice breaks him or every tremble he feels seizes his heart that much tighter.

They’re both silent for a long time before Lance finds he’s been sliding his thumb along Keith’s knuckles, the skin broken and bloodied, for a while now. He wishes Keith would sleep, he wishes there was something he could do to ease the tension in the other’s shoulders. He wishes he could lay Keith’s head in his lap and card his fingers through Keith’s hair the way his mother had done for him whenever he couldn’t sleep. Fear is what stops him, uncertainty is what keeps him from moving and judgment keeps him from asking. He’s at least managed to get Keith’s hand to stop shaking by some miracle, perhaps the continuous soothing rhythm of his thumb against the other’s skin was the solution and maybe that’s what gives him the idea.

It’s stupid, it shouldn’t be something he thinks of at a time like this but it _feels_ right. It isn’t like he’s never thought of it before; on some level he’s always been aware of his feelings for Keith but that isn’t what this is about. If he could just get Keith to relax, to ease his mind then maybe he’ll stop thinking so much. Maybe he’ll _sleep_.

So Lance takes a breath and he holds it for a moment, contemplating all the things that could go wrong after this. Except the only thing he comes up with is _fuck it_. He’s never been much of a thinker anyway. He lets go, holds Keith’s hand a little tighter as if it’s more proof of his conviction and turns to face the boy beside him.

“Keith?”

“Yes?”

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Lance instantly prepares for backlash, regrets it the second the words are out of his mouth. There isn’t anywhere to run and whatever Keith has come here in search for, it certainly wasn’t this.

But Keith squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go. Lance hears the breath he takes, sees the shift in the shadows as Keith gets impossibly closer and Lance realises then that this about as clear of a concession as he’s going to get.

He can’t really see that well so he uses his free hand to guide him, using the brush of his fingertips to lead him along Keith’s arm to his shoulder until finally he feels the soft curl of Keith’s hair against the back of his hand. He stops then, stretches his fingers into Keith’s hair and waits for protest but it doesn’t come. Lance dips in until the tip of other’s nose touches his cheek, until he feels Keith’s breath, shallow and anticipating. Lance is the one shaking now, his mind a mess of crossed wires and hyperactive synapses firing off cautionary warnings but his stomach bottoms out and instinct takes over. His free hand cups Keith’s jaw, his fingers entwined in the other’s hair and it feels like an eternity before Lance works up enough courage to press his lips against Keith’s.

The touch is tentative, like they’re both waiting for the other to pull away with second thoughts but neither of them do. They go slow; short languid kisses before they become longer and harder and Lance tastes the sorrow on Keith’s tongue. It makes his heart ache but beat faster, his lungs only breathing borrowed air but Keith relaxes against him as if his anxiety bleeds serenity into his veins. His shoulders ease, his breath comes heavier and Lance can feel the warmth coming back to his skin. So many words burn on Lance’s tongue, eager to admit how he really feels but instead he remains silent and lets Keith swallow the truths whole.

He doesn’t know how long they kiss for or how they both end up tangled in each other’s arms by the end of it, with Keith’s head on his chest and Lance’s fingers still buried in the other’s hair. What he does know is that the room is still silent save for one more heartbeat, the ship’s engine still whirs like a lullaby and Keith finally sleeps.


End file.
